


FabFiveFeb2020 - Hedwig's Offerings

by HedwigsTalons



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Apples, Bruises, Experiments, Gen, Hallucinations, Home, Hypothermia, Ice Skating, brothers to the rescue, gravity - Freeform, high society - Freeform, training exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22878766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedwigsTalons/pseuds/HedwigsTalons
Summary: Prompt challenge set by Gumnut-logic on Tumblr
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	1. Alan

**Author's Note:**

> Five brothers. Five Weeks. Five prompts. Each chapter is a separate story and can be taken individually.
> 
> Week 1 - Alan. This one uses the prompts of 'ball' and '"No! You can't"'.

Alan tugged at the stiff collar, feeling constricted by the starchy garment. When Scott had told him to suit up for advanced training this was not what he had imagined.

He coughed pathetically into his hand.

“I’m sure I’m getting sick. Perhaps I should stay home.”

“Nice try kiddo, but nope. I know the Cavern Quest expansion has just come out but some things are more important than your game.”

Rumbled. He had been looking forward to an all night session exploring the new realms and maintaining his top spot on the leader board but Scott had other ideas.

Scott too was beginning to have his doubts about taking Alan out but the kid was old enough now to start taking on some of the other duties that came with being a Tracy. The duties that kept Tracy Industries in the spotlight and the investors sweet.

“Come on. Let me fix that tie for you. This is meant to be a fun night. The charity auction and ball is an easy event. Even John can make it to the end of the bidding without imploding so you should have no trouble. I’ll be right there with you, guiding you through. Just like Dad did for me the first time I had to attend one of these things.”

He stepped back and surveyed his youngest brother. The sharp tuxedo was perfectly fitted to his form. The cummerbund emphasised his narrow waist while the jacket showed off his broad shoulders. Like all Tracys Alan wore a suit well. The only difference between Scott and Alan was that Scott looked calm and relaxed while Alan looked tense and miserable.

“Are you sure I can’t give this a pass? I’m really not sure I’m ready for this. I promise I’ll do the next one.”

“No, you can’t. Your name is already on the guest list. Society is expecting Alan Tracy to make his debut. We’ve all been there. We all need to take our turn being the public face of the business.”

Alan personally felt that he would rather deal with a dozen asteroids on a collision course with Earth than sit through the gala event. It wasn’t that he struggled with social events in the same way John did, it was just that as a teenager this wouldn’t have been his choice for a night out. He might be a Tracy but he didn’t wear the wealth as easily as his brothers. The move to the island had happened so early in his life that he had never been exposed to the sort of society events that came with being part of the super-rich. It was an alien world he was about to be launched in to.

Throughout the flight to the States he fiddled nervously with his outfit. Each time he reached for the bow tie he received a swift admonishment from Scott. He contented himself with twiddling the expensive cufflinks instead. A matching pair to the set currently sported by Scott. The sapphires in them were chosen to perfectly bring out the blue of his eyes, not that Alan cared for such details.

He tried to take in all the details Scott was giving him.

“Now remember. You’re to win one auction lot and then donate it to a charitable cause. John has already picked out some suitable contenders for you.”

Alan scrolled through the supplied list of lots. Those deemed both acceptable and suitable for donation had been pre-highlighted along with details of a worthy charity should Alan be the highest bidder.

“And absolutely no alcohol.”

“What? Not even one?”

“No. For a start, you’re too young. And besides, with both of us off island we need to be ready to go if an emergency comes up. I won’t be drinking either.”

Alan had hoped he would be able to sample the champagne that Gordon had assured him flowed freely at these events but he should have known Scott would have other plans. He knew Scott was serious about the need to be ready for an emergency. The had travelled in Thunderbird One and their uniforms were stashed aboard.

As they made their final approach to the venue Scott imparted his final words of advice.

“Now remember, the cameras are going to be on us from the moment we land. Just stay a step behind me. I’ll deal with any reporters. Once we get inside there will only be a very select few from the press but crossing from our landing spot to the doors we will be running the gauntlet. Head up, smile, but say nothing.”

Despite the warning Alan was still dazzled by the flashbulbs as he stepped down from the rocket plane. Out on a rescue the press normally kept a respectful distance and were thankfully non-existent in space. Here, at a prestigious event for high society, the popular press were circling like vultures. Add in a Thunderbird and a pair of elusive Tracy brothers and the charity ball became front page news.

He tried to smile but was sure it looked more like a grimace. He was prepped to perfection but he still felt like a prize idiot. The dress shoes felt stiff and tight compared to his habitual high-tops or uniform boots. The tailored material of his suit moved in unfamiliar ways. To top it off he had a wedgie that he most definitely couldn’t be seen to be dealing with on camera.

Passing through the doorway into the opulent lobby felt like a stepping into a sanctuary. 

Scott was true to his word and stuck with Alan every step of the way. Sometimes a little too closely Alan thought as his attempt to swipe a drink was foiled, the champagne flute deftly replaced with a tumbler of juice. 

As the evening wore on Alan wished more and more to be elsewhere. The auction part of the night hadn’t been so bad but the ball was tedium itself. 

Investors and business associates were introduced in a never ending stream. Scott worked the room like a pro. Alan envied his brother’s easy charm. The way he effortlessly joined and exited conversations at polite moments. At least with Scott taking the lead it diverted some of the attention away from himself. Scott oozed eligible bachelor. Men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him. Alan trailed awkwardly in his wake.

“Please Scott, can’t we go home yet?” Alan whined as they drifted across a quiet space between groups. 

“Sorry Alan, not yet. Give it half an hour more. There are a few more contacts we need to talk to. This event is an important one in the business calendar and we really cannot be seen to snub any of the key Tracy Industries partners.”

“Can’t I at least undo this stupid bow tie?”

“No, you can’t.”

“But he has” Alan protested, pointing out a man lounging at a nearby table.

Scott looked over at the man indicated by his sibling.

“I wouldn’t trust his judgement, Al. That woman he is attempting to chat up is the wife of the CEO of one of the major aeronautics companies. If I’m not mistaken,” Scott glanced meaningfully as some circling attendants “he is about to be thrown out by security.”

Sure enough the sloppily attired individual was soon ejected from the venue. 

Alan had to admit it, Scott certainly knew what he was doing at these events. He wondered if he would ever be able to get over the awkwardness. Scott made it look so effortless. 

Eventually all the essential business associates had been ticked off the list. Flesh had been pressed. Duty done. 

It was only when they were safely back within the cocoon of Thunderbird One the Scott’s smooth exterior finally cracked. He ripped off his own bow tie and cummerbund. Alan quickly followed suit.

“Urgh, I’m glad that’s over” the elder sibling groaned.

Alan looked up in surprise. “I thought you were enjoying it?”

“Well that’s certainly the impression I was hoping to give. It’s not the worst event but really, if we could get away without doing them, I would. But it’s good for the share price. Keeps the cash flow going.”

“So why did you drag me along?”

“To lighten the load. With John practically living up on Five we are one down for the social duty rota. Now you’re old enough you can start pulling your weight with the business.”

“Gee, thanks. Can’t I just do extra cleaning duties instead?”

“No can do, little bro. Don’t worry, we won’t make you fly solo yet. You’ll do a few more events under chaperone before we throw you to the sharks.”

Alan just grimaced. He decided that being an International Rescue operative was far easier than being a Tracy. It was just unfortunate for him that the two went hand in hand.


	2. Gordon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uses the prompts of 'iridescent', 'no clothes' and 'speakers'.

The cave was beautiful. Except beautiful couldn’t do justice to the awe inspiring scene around him.

He assumed the light came from some species of glow worm. Their ethereal glow creating a dazzling field of galaxies deep inside the Earth. The scene seemed to ripple and pulsate with varying intensities. Life in the darkness.

He stood there, drinking in the beauty of nature. Trying to embed the images in the hope he could recreate them once home. Blue stars above reflected on rippling water below, the bioluminescent glow transmuted to rainbow iridescence by the oil leaking from his crippled pod. The intervening void as black and cold as space. 

No painting could compare. No old master could invoke this depth of feeling. No mere mortal could compete with the creative force of mother nature.

The frigid temperatures seeped into his bones but the cold only seemed to give the image more clarity. 

It sparkled.

The scene above him shifted and swirled. Coalescing into beings that called to him. Faeries. Nymphs. He knew not what they were. Music swelled inside his heart. Who was he to disobey these god-like beings, begging him to join their dance. 

He unzipped his suit, shrugging off the constricting material, and stepped out into the light.

xoxoxox

Alarms blared on Thunderbird Five. So far, so normal. Except this was the alarm he never wanted to hear. The alarm that meant a brother’s suit was no longer registering a heartbeat.

Why had his damn fool brother headed back into the cave system? The rescue had been a success. They should have been home by now.

The last hour had been agonising for John. Virgil had wanted to go back for a proper look at the scene that had captivated him during the rescue. With Gordon finishing off his tasks on the surface there hadn’t seemed to be any harm in letting the artist take his fill of inspiration.

But then the idiot had got distracted, eyes on the underground sky rather than the path, and had damaged his pod. His transport back to the warmth and light of the surface left crippled and bleeding, stuck in a rut hidden by the water into which its oil was now leaking.

The fool hadn’t immediately called in the damage either, choosing instead to leave the heated confines of his machine and step out into the near freezing cave. The space bound sibling had assumed the pod had stopped because it had reached its destination. This was partly true; Virgil had indeed reached the captivating cavern and was far more interested in imprinting the vista to his memories. It was only when the chill had already reached his core that he made the revelation that he needed a ride home.

A ride that would take too long to arrive.

xoxoxox

For Gordon the journey back into the bowels of the earth took an eternity. 

He had started the trip cheerful; keen to see the sight that had so captivated his brother. The conversation over the comms was light after a successful rescue. A joke here and there about Virgil being the only casualty when Brains found out he had bust another pod. 

But then his mood became sombre as the responses from Virgil became more rambling. Cold affecting cognition as hypothermia set in. All too soon it became apparent that it wasn’t Gordon that Virgil was speaking to but instead some twisted hallucination brought on by the freezing temperatures. Then came the fear inducing moment when Virgil stopped responding completely and Gordon’s only company became the disembodied voice of their space monitor coming through the speakers within his pod.

John’s voice wore its professional mask. The one that seemed to reassure those they were tasked to rescue but to family it only incited worry. It was the mask John wore when a situation was truly grave. The voice that meant John was scared.

Vital signs were read out. 

Temperature too low. 

Pulse too slow. 

The numbers continued their inexorable slide towards death until that terrifying moment when all signs cut out.

If you asked him afterwards how he had managed it, Gordon would only shrug his shoulders. Even he wasn’t sure how he had managed to lift Virgil into the pod. But fear and adrenaline and sibling love can produce superhuman efforts.

He would never accept that his brother was dead. Never accept that it was ever too late to save someone unless the cold and lifeless body was physically in his hands. It was a stubbornness that kept him going on rescues even when it looked like all hope was lost, a stubbornness that meant the hunt for his father was never futile and a stubbornness that kept him driving forwards even when John made that chilling announcement.

The lights of the pod swept over the naked body of his brother slumped next to the discarded suit. The still form was reminiscent of a greek statue; perfect musculature carved in white marble. Only the shock of black hair giving suggestion that this was no sculpted effigy. 

But then came that sign that turned his leaden heart into one that soared. The tell-tale puffs of condensation as hot breath met cool air proving beyond doubt that there was still life in that pallid form. Golden toffee eyes blazed with a determination to bring his brother home as Gordon knew he had been right to not lose hope. 

xoxoxox

The flight home was tortuous. Thank goodness for autopilot Gordon thought as he stayed glued by his brother’s side, only leaving Two’s medical bay to be on hand at the controls for take-off and landing. He spent as little time as possible in the cockpit. It didn’t feel right to be sat up front all alone knowing her true pilot was out cold in more ways than one.

Monitoring equipment provided the soundtrack to the journey. Rhythmic bleeps that gave reassuring evidence that Virgil was still alive. Just. 

Gordon was well versed in the symptoms and treatment of hypothermia. It had formed a core part of his WASP first aid training. Sudden and prolonged immersion in cold water was a known hazard for the World Aquanaut Service Patrol and the hypothermia training had been extensive and detailed. Unfortunately this training also made Gordon aware that Thunderbird Two was ill-equipped to deal with the severity of cooling his brother had experienced. He applied all the warming packs and heated blankets he could find but external warming alone was not enough. Virgil’s vital signs were only showing minimal improvements and were still too low for comfort.

Once on the ground and in the hanger he was pushed to one side by an anxious Scott. The command for him to shower and change was clipped and abrupt. Gordon tried not to take it personally. He had observed his eldest brother at peak worry too many times before and knew the curt attitude was a symptom of the stress Scott was trying but failing to conceal. It still hurt though, to be left standing alone in the hangar while the brother he had watched over and fought for was whisked away to the infirmary without him.

Entering the infirmary a short while later he was not surprised to find Scott keeping a watching vigil over Virgil.

His eldest brother rounded on him before he had even taken two steps into the room.

“What the hell happened out there? One moment you are loading up to come home and the next Virgil is practically dead in a cave.”

Gordon was too tired for this. Too tired be submissive to Scott’s berating. He ignored the Commander, side-stepping to get round to the bed. He needed to see for himself how Virgil was doing.

Purposefully and methodically he checked the monitors. He was pleased to see that a heated IV had been set up, allowing Virgil to be warmed from the inside. Virgil’s lips were still cracked from the cold and dehydration but no longer had the deathly blue tinge they had shown earlier. His skin too had a more healthy flush.

Gordon reached and touched Virgil’s forehead, needing to satisfy himself that the death chill really had gone in a way that the numbers on a digital display just couldn’t. 

Eyelids fluttered at the touch and confused chestnut eyes cracked open. 

Virgil tried to sit up. The mass of blankets on him felt hot and oppressive. He was prevented from moving too far by a steadying hand on his chest.

“Whoa, big guy. You aren’t cooked yet. Gotta stay put for a bit longer”

The hand pressed him gently but firmly back down to the bed.

“Feel…hot. Thirsty.” 

“I know. But that’s only because your core is still chilled. You gave us a bit of a fright back there.” Gordon glanced up at Scott, finally acknowledging the man he has so far ignored. WASP took charge over Air Force, this was his specialist area after all. “He needs a glucose drink. Warmed.”

The drink was duly produced and Gordon held the cup while Virgil drank gently through a straw. While Scott and Virgil might be closer in age and have a deep sibling friendship it was easy to forget that it was Virgil and Gordon that had the symbiotic working relationship. Each was deeply attuned to the needs of the other.

With each point of temperature rise Virgil grew more coherent. More understanding of the situation he was in and the need to submit to the ministrations of his brothers.

Inactivity did not suit Virgil.

It was with some relief when he was finally allowed to sit up, ready to leave the infirmary. The pronouncement made that he no longer needed any assistance in keeping his temperature regulated. He went to slide off the bed when he realised his predicament.

“Um…Gordo. Where are my shorts?”

“Probably in the cave somewhere. I was able to grab your uniform but I wasn’t going to go hunting around for your underwear.”

“You mean I….”

“Yup. Naked as the day you were born.” Gordon grinned at the now blushing pilot. “You really went the whole hog out there. Don’t worry, I brought some clothes down for you.” He indicated a pile of clothes in the corner.

“Gordy. Thanks. I don’t know what would have happened without you there.”

Gordon’s face grew dark. 

“I do.” The response was blunt. A stark reminder of just how close Virgil had come to crossing the ultimate line. The smile quickly returned though. “Come on. I’ll leave you to get dressed. Don’t take too long though. I tasked Alan with making some hot chocolate, just to finish off the warming process”

Virgil brightened up immensely at this idea.

“You let Alan loose with the hot chocolate? You do know how much sugar and cream that kid adds, right?”

“Yup. That’s why I asked him rather than anyone else. And as long as Scott hasn’t changed his hiding place I bet there will be marshmallows too.”

Gordon swept out of the room leaving a much revived Virgil to scrabble for his clothes. It wasn’t every day they got to raid Scott’s snack stash. And if Scott got mad they could always claim the marshmallows were medicinal.


	3. Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uses the prompts of '"I'm trying!"', and 'duck'.

The sky was just beginning to show the first tinges of dawn on the horizon as the two boys crept out of the back door of the farmhouse. Their breath came in puffs of dragon mist. A thick frost coated the grasses beside the path and made the stones slippery. Ahead of them lay the shallow pond, less than 2 foot at the deepest point, which had finally been deemed strong enough to skate on.

The boys were wrapped up warm against the winter chill. Hats were pulled down over ears. Scarves were wrapped tightly around throats. Between the two could be seen shining eyes, one set a startling blue and the other a deep chestnut brown, and noses that were already turning red from the cold.

The pair reached the pond and sat down on the bench placed conveniently on its shore. Trainers were exchanged for the ice skates each had been carrying. Scott’s set were stiff and new as a consequence of his having grown yet again. Virgil’s skates were Scott’s from the previous year. For once being the younger brother and receiver of hand me downs was an advantage as the leather was already soft and supple.

A few wobbling and tentative steps later and the boys were stood on the smooth, unblemished ice. 

Scott instantly took off, making a few swift circuits of the pond. The first skate of the season was always something special. His blades cut clean lines across the surface as he sped across the ice. He always found speed exhilarating and the smooth motion was the closest he could get to flying on land. He dreamed that he was soaring through the air, just like in those first few flights sat beside their father in the little dual controlled aircraft he was currently learning to pilot.

A muffled shout cut through his imaginings.

He was quickly back beside his brother who was now sat on the ice with his legs splayed out in front of him.

“Sorry Virge” he muttered, helping the other boy back to his feet. Virgil’s feet skittered about as he struggled to regain his balance and nearly pulled them both back down to the frozen surface.

“How do you make it look so easy Scott? Even John can skate so why can’t I?

“Practice” the older boy shrugged. “This is your first time on the ice, you can’t expect it to just happen like magic. I got my fair share of bruises along the way too.”

The brothers set off on a tentative trip across the ice, Virgil setting the pace and gripping to Scott’s hand for dear life. They were barely half way across before Virgil’s skates decided to take a vehement dislike to each other. The set out in opposite directions and he scrabbled about looking for all the world like an uncoordinated duck. Gravity took its inevitable hold and he smashed down on his tailbone, nearly pulling Scott over in the process.

“Come on, up you get. Let’s try again.”

“I _am_ trying!”

This refrain was repeated several times over the course of the next hour. Just when Scott though Virgil was just beginning to get the hang of it down he would go again and when Virgil went down he went down hard. Virgil’s jeans were damp from their repeated and prolonged contact with the frozen pond and Scott was sure there would be a heavy crop of bruises despite the layers they were bundled up in.

“Maybe we should just wait for Mom, she’s a far better teacher than me.”

“No!” The response was almost shouted at him. “I mean, we can do this. And anyway, she’ll have her hands full with Gordon later.

And that was the crux of the problem. Gordon was due to have his first lesson on the ice later after finally being considered old enough to join the sport. By rights Virgil would have been as good a skater as Scott by now but circumstances had always conspired against him. Even John, third in line in the family, was passably competent. He would never have the grace and speed of Scott and he didn’t particularly enjoy the sport but he had learnt the basics. 

It’s an unwritten rule of the universe that little brothers shouldn’t be able to do things that their big brothers can’t. Virgil had been prepared to overlook the rule with John. Their quiet, space obsessed sibling, who measured the passing of the year through the placement of constellations in the sky was not a threat when it can to physical pursuits. John wouldn’t laugh at him.

But Gordon was another matter. He was not ready to disabuse Tracy number four of the illusion that big brothers could do everything. 

Virgil picked himself up and tried again.

And again.

And again.

It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t spent time on the ice. Every year there had been a problem. A broken ankle. A warm winter where the ice was too thin. A season of one cold after another that kept him confined to the house. The year Mom was pregnant with Gordon and wouldn’t risk skating. All of this meant the Virgil had never had his opportunity to learn. He had never yet had that special first lesson on the ice with their mother whose eyes seem to sparkle like the frost that foretold the coming of her favourite time of year.

And now it was Gordon’s year and Virgil would rather forego learning with him Mom if that meant he also had to learn alongside the squid so many years his junior. 

From the moment the first thin layers of ice began to build up on the pond Virgil had become quieter while Gordon had become more exuberant. While one brother was urging the winter on the other was secretly dreading the moment when the fateful pronouncement would be made that the ice was finally safe. 

He had finally broken and taken his fears to his friend and confidante and Scott had come up with a plan that had seemed to be so simple at the time. They would hit the ice first and Scott would teach Virgil before anyone else was awake.

So here they were trying to cram several years of missed opportunities into one short session at dawn. And watching from and upstairs window, unseen by the boys on the pond, was their mother marvelling at the determination and teamwork shown by her two eldest children.


	4. Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompts this time were 'apple' and 'crease'. Not really a lot of Scott in this to be honest but this is where the prompts took me.

There was a mountain of paperwork to be done. It seemed like there was always paperwork of some sort demanding his attention. Mission reports. Stock lists. Maintenance schedules. Rotas. Sometime he felt that the rotas were a waste of time; it’s not like emergencies kept to a schedule and down time was generally dictated by who had had the least sleep rather than following any pattern or design. He liked to at least hope he could give each brother a fairly regular day off rescues but sometimes even keeping birthdays sacred was impossible.

As a man of action the paperwork was a particular bugbear of Scott’s. Delegation wasn’t an option though. John and Virgil were responsible for producing at least three quarters of the documents he had to analyse so he couldn’t really push more paper their way, Alan had school work and Gordon was….Gordon. The last time the irrepressible aquanaut had been tasked with writing the supplies list it had mostly consisted of ice cream and canned cheese. Scott was surprised they hadn’t all got scurvy that month.

Speaking of the aquatic sibling Scott was horribly aware of his brother’s presence on the far side of the lounge. It was disrupting his concentration and causing the stress lines on his forehead to crease even deeper. He looked up to send the irritation packing but faltered.

“Gordon…why do you have an apple on your head?”

He received a cheerful shrug in return. “Science.” As if it was obvious.

“Just how is you balancing an apple _science_?

Gordon adopted his ‘I’m talking to an idiot’ tone and pointed to the normally space-resident sibling who was quietly reclining on a sofa in the sunken seating area, reading a book.

“Johnny boy and I have a little experiment going. About gravity.” 

“It’s John, thank you very much.” The use of the nickname earned a scowl.

“And just what have apples got to do with this?” Scott didn’t really want to ask but if he stood any chance of getting Gordon to go away he knew he needed to understand.

“ _Everything_. Apples and gravity; it’s a classic.”

“John, can you translate please. I’m still failing to see exactly why our brother has an apple on his head.”

John carefully marked the page then put his book to one side. He hadn’t been back on Earth for long and was still in the mandatory rest phase while his blood pressure readjusted.

“Gordon seems to think I’m disproportionately affected by gravity. He has decided to test what falls down first, me or the apple.”

It was well known that John struggled with the effects of gravity. Prolonged periods of time in the microgravity of Thunderbird Five meant that while John was gracefulness personified in space he was a bit of a walking disaster zone when Earthside. The first day or two after returning home were characterised by John’s fragile skin being bumped, grazed and gaining all manner of new bruises.

“If I fall first I have to wear one of Gordon’s shirts for a day.” Scott could almost see John stiffen at the though of being subjected to Gordon’s fashion choices. “But if Gordon drops the apple then he has to eat whatever it is Grandma is currently baking for me. She is making one of her special ‘welcome home’ treats.”

This time there was no mistaking the shudder. Gordon physically recoiled at the thought. Grandma’s normal baking was bad enough but the pressure of making something special tended to result in an even more catastrophic failure. The apple wobbled precariously and Gordon straightened himself just in time.

“What Gordon seems to have forgotten is that I’m going to be spending the next few hours lying down. I can’t trip over while I’m reading. Now if you don’t mind I’d quite like to carry on with my book.”

He made to pick up the discarded volume when Gordon chipped in.

“And what _Johnny_ seems to have forgotten is that as well as resting he is also being a good boy and rehydrating. I know he has drunk at least 40 oz since his last bathroom break. Gotta move sooner or later space case”

John became uncomfortably aware of the pressing feeling in his bladder. It hadn’t been an issue until Gordon pointed it out but now the feeling filled his focus. Navigating his way out of the sunken seating was bad enough during those first few hours back on Earth but doing so while distracted was a whole other level of difficulty. He wished he had just kept to his room with its nice, convenient en-suite but the prospect of avoiding Grandma’s burnt offerings had been too tempting. There was no way he was letting Gordon into the hallowed sanctuary of his bedroom and so the experiment was being conducted in the communal areas of the villa. 

Scott rubbed his temples. The creases threatened to turn into full-blown furrows. All chances of him completing the paperwork were well and truly shattered. He evidently wasn’t going to get any peace until the experiment had run it’s course. He had no problems with John sharing the lounge but there was something about having Gordon hovering that put him on edge. Gordon didn’t even have to make a noise to be distracting, sometimes just his existence was enough.

He watched as John carefully manoeuvred himself into an upright position and walked with exaggerated care towards the steps. Gordon was positively vibrating with the tension, wondering whether their rarely-resident space monitor would be able to navigate the obstacle. None of them noticed Virgil enter the lounge behind Gordon, they were all so engrossed in the spectacle. 

“Oh yum, snack table.” Virgil grabbed the apple off of Gordon’s head, polished it on his jeans to remove the smear of hair gel, then bit into it with a loud crunch just moments John caught his foot on the bottom step and fell sprawling to the floor.

“Aww Virg! What did you have to go and do that for? I was just about to win.” Gordon rounded on the oblivious engineer.

“What? What did I do?” Virgil mumbled round a mouthful of apple.

Scott sighed. “Apparently Gordon bet John that he would fall down before the apple did.”

Virgil just shrugged. “Draw?” he suggested, reaching down to help John back to his feet.

“Oh no, I win outright” John smirked. “I believe the exact terms of the challenge were that I couldn’t fall over but Gordon had to keep the apple on his head without touching it. Seeing as the apple left Gordon’s head before I reached the steps, I win.”

He collected his book, climbed the steps without further incident, and headed towards his room complete with its convenient bathroom.

In the doorway he paused and turned.

“Enjoy the cookies Gordon. I believe Grandma was attempting something with cranberries so try not to break a tooth.”


	5. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final instalment of the FabFiveFeb challenge. The prompts this time were 'paper', 'concrete' and 'soft caress'.

It was meant to be a simple evacuation exercise. Ordinarily Thunderbird Three would not be sent up single-manned but with Scott, Virgil and Gordon all out at various rescues already, and Kayo off on a mission for the GDF, they hadn’t had much choice. An asteroid mining rig was malfunctioning, as was the crew’s shuttle, and so Alan had been dispatched to play taxi service. A quick round trip to the rock to pick up the stranded crew. 

Easy. 

The crew was evidently resourceful at making repairs and by the time Thunderbird Three had arrived the shuttle and her crew were making a hasty retreat from their malfunctioning and volatile machinery. He hailed them cheerily over the comms and received thanks and apologies for his own wasted trip in return. That should have been the end of it. One more false alarm marked up in the log book.

There was one problem.

The mining rig should have had a mandatory minimum operational crew of six but only five personnel were in the shuttle.

Alan touched down on the surface of the asteroid. Years of dedication and devotion to saving lives meant that he couldn’t trust it was just an administration error. His conscious wouldn’t allow him to head for home if one poor soul was stranded somewhere on that inhospitable rock. He radioed his intent to John and received acknowledgement of his plan in return. After giving his assurances that _of course_ he would be careful, and _of course_ he knew the call out what because the equipment was malfunctioning, Alan headed over to the machinery housing.

Alan cautiously made his way through the mining complex. It was a small affair; aside from the drill room there was just a crew bunk house and life support facilities giving small comfort to the personnel who called that asteroid both home and work for six months at a time. He called out as he went but any response would have been drowned out by the hideous noises being made by the drill. The crew had been unable to shut the equipment down before departing. 

It was easy to see that the living quarters were empty. The rooms were sparse and the comforts minimal. The operating company evidently didn’t think much to investing in the welfare of their staff.

He headed cautiously into the drill room. 

It seemed there hadn’t been much investment here either. The equipment was archaic and in a poor state of repair. Parts crunched together and groaned ominously. In one area repairs had been attempted by holding parts in place with zip ties. 

Seriously, who used ,em>zip ties on a mining rig?

Alan skirted cautiously round the machinery, not prepared to leave until he was sure there was no one else left. The drill was making tortured screams. Gears and coils strained under the pressure of operating out of alignment. Emergency shut down had failed as the operation fought back against years of neglect and running on a shoestring. 

Speaking of shoestrings, was that pipe held in place by a _boot lace_?

The screams were replaced by a guttural juddering sound as cogs meshed together. Banging and clanking indicated parts locking then slipping past each other again. The drill rig was now shaking ominously and Alan realised the time had come to evacuate. There was no sign of a sixth crew member and Alan doubted one had ever been present. Yet another space code violation to add to the list.

Shoddy record keeping.

Shoddy maintenance.

He never made it back to the door. The overloaded system could no longer contain the increasing pressure and the machinery failed in spectacular fashion. Chunks of metal were ejected violently from the drill rig. The air became filled with deadly projectiles. Cogs flew through the air with enough force to smash through concrete.

Just as well Alan’s chest plate was stronger than concrete.

Silence fell.

“Come in Thunderbird Three. What is your status?”

The explosion then ominous silence had been clearly audible over the open comms line.

John tried reaching his brother again.

“Alan! Alan, talk to me!”

It felt like an eternity before the weak voice answered his hail.

“ ‘m…ok…John. Just…a bit…battered.”

A bit battered was an understatement. His arms and legs felt bruised but his biggest concern was the pain in his chest. One particularly aggressive missile had hit his left side and slammed him into the wall. The chest plate itself had buckled under the impact and was now pressing into him in a way that could only mean broken ribs. He knew he should feel lucky. Without his armour plating the impact would certainly have killed him.

He didn’t feel lucky.

All he could feel was a world of pain.

He tried to move but the intense stabbing sensation in his side issued a firm warning that moving was a bad idea. He settled back against the wall into which he had been thrown and tried to regain his composure.

Deep, steadying breaths to help push through the pain.

Except he couldn’t.

Inhaling felt beyond his abilities. He could only manage short, ragged breaths that brought no relief. Oxygen, so precious in the voids of space, felt to be in short supply. He found himself panting rapidly but each breath was too shallow and the waves of dizziness and nausea just increased. He was alone with no one to help him. Tears rolled down his cheeks, a salty mix of fear and pain.

xoxoxox

Some people might think that operating Thunderbird Five was the easiest of the International Rescue roles. 

Those people would be wrong.

Coordinating rescues could be hard. 

Hearing brothers injured and in pain and not being able to a thing about it. Immersed in the action yet removed and isolated. Helpless. Impotent. A bystander looking at the devastation from the outside. Unable to reach out. Unable to turn away. That was the hardest job of all.

“John. I’m registering a deterioration in Thunderbird Three’s vital signs.”

He didn’t need the observations of the AI to know that Alan was in a bad way.

“I know, Eos.”

“Thunderbirds One, Two and Four have returned to base.”

“I know, Eos.”

“John, you are showing signs of distress. Your heart rate, blood pressure and cortisol levels are showing significant elevations.”

“ _I know_ , Eos!”

He didn’t mean to shout. He knew she was only doing the job she was programmed to do; keeping a watching eye on himself and his brothers. It was so deeply ingrained into her subroutines. A permanent watch that always occupied a portion of her processors no matter what else she was doing. But at the moment her observations were not helpful. He was all too aware that one sibling was hurt and the others had no way of reaching him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed up his eyes slightly. 

It didn’t help.

“Eos, plot the course to asteroid JX387.”

The AI knew better than to point out that Thunderbird Five was not designed as a long range ship. She had the capabilities to complete the journey and that was all that mattered. The usually dormant thrusters sprang into life and commenced the task of propelling the satellite toward her stranded sister craft.

When the admission of fear came through the comms from his youngest brother, in a voice that was wavering and betrayed his tender years, John’s heart broke. It was one thing to provide reassurances to strangers but quite another when your own flesh and blood were involved.

Flesh and blood.

The words conjured up vivid imaginings of what he might find when he finally reached the asteroid.

“Alan, I need you to stay with me.”

“John?”

“I’m here Alan.”

“I’m…scared.”

The voice over the comms was strained and week. The shallow, laboured breathing picked up clearly by the sensitive microphone built into Alan’s helmet. The life signs being monitored by Eos were registering an accelerated heart rate.

“I know, Allie. I’m coming for you.”

John wasn’t normally one for pet names but there was something about that voice, so raw and vulnerable, the reminded him of the five year old that used to seek him out after a nightmare to be soothed by stories of the stars that now surrounded them both. 

Determination flooded his system. Concentrating on the task in hand he piloted Thunderbird Five over to the part of the solar system currently occupied by his youngest sibling.

xoxoxox

Once in range of the asteroid and it’s now failed mining operation John donned his exosuit and exited Thunderbird Five. The rock was bleak and the facilities on it were uninviting. Thunderbird Three stood near the drilling base, cold and still. Her striking red hull providing the only splash of colour in that grim landscape.

He cautiously entered the complex and headed for the drill rig where the vital signs monitor was registering the presence of a brother who was thankfully still alive. All caution was abandoned and John broke into as much of a run as the exosuit would allow when he spied the blue suited figure on the floor.

“You…came.”

“I promised I would.”

“Gonna…need…new…suit.”

John took in the damage to the armour plating and inwardly winced. The whole of Alan’s left side was now a concave hollow. Broken ribs were a given and the shallow, laboured breathing suggested a punctured lung too.

“Don’t try to talk. You can put your uniform order in to Scott when we get home.”

Speaking of getting home that was going to be easier said than done. Moving Alan was going to be a painful business and his condition suggested that a transfer to Thunderbird Five would be too risky. 

A new voice over the comms intruded on his thought.

“John, status report.”

Big brother, his own rescue on Earth now concluded, had evidently been appraised of the situation by Eos. 

“I’m with Alan now. He’s…” John racked his brains for the right way to phrase things. He wanted to be honest but he also knew Alan could hear every word he was saying. “He’s taken a significant impact but he’s conscious and responding well.” 

“Hey…Scott…I’m…a…tough…nut…to…crack.”

“You sure are, kid.”

“I’m going to bring him home. The sooner he gets medical attention the better.”

“Five then the space elevator?”

“No, the med-bed on Three will be more comfortable.”

“Hmm. When was the last time you flew Three?”

“Simulated or solid state?” This was the last thing he needed. Alan had enough to worry about without doubts being cast on his piloting abilities. “Look Scott. Trust me on this.”

“Not…leaving…my…rocket…behind.”

John couldn’t help but smile.

“See, even Alan agrees. I’ll see you back at base. You can prepare the infirmary.”

“FAB”

John cut the connection to Tracy Island and instructed Eos to keep that line as receive only. He didn’t want to shut Scott out completely but transferring Alan was going to be a painful business. Without knowing the state of his lungs John didn’t want to risk administering the wrong dose of painkiller and he didn’t want the inevitable cries from Alan being broadcast to an already worried smother hen. 

“Time to get moving kid. Now I’m really sorry but this is going to hurt.”

Alan gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and gritted his teeth for the inevitable.

The choked back whimper as Alan was lifted into a bridal hold cut John to the core. The kid was being so damn brave. 

It was time to complete the painful journey back to Earth.

xoxoxox

The damaged chest plate lay discarded at the side of the infirmary. The misshapen armour a chilling reminder of the dangers they faced every time they launched.

John ran his fingers through his youngest brother’s hair in a soft caress. It was about the only part of the young astronaut that wasn’t bruised, thanks to his helmet which he had wisely kept on while on the asteroid. Eyes flickered open at the touch.

“See…” The voice was still breathy and strained. “Tough…nut…to…crack.”

The damage scans and x-rays had revealed three broken ribs and a lung that was partially collapsed but thankfully not punctured. He would heal in time but it could easily have been a lot worse. John made a mental note to personally thank Brains for designing Alan’s uniform with such tough shielding. He also made a note to throw the book at the drill operators; the whole set-up had been a disaster waiting to happen with corners cut and rules broken at every opportunity. The company wouldn’t be operating in space for a very long time once he and Eos had finished.

He became aware of Scott hovering in the doorway.

“Eos had returned Five to low Earth orbit. She’s back in place over the island.”

John gave a subtle nod of acknowledgement. He knew there was no longer a need for him to stay Earth-side; Alan was out of danger and would be well looked after by his terrestrial siblings. He didn’t move away from the bed.

“You did good out there, John.”

A slight shrug. He shouldn’t have been out there at all. On days like this he wondered whether Alan should be out there either. Wondered why they had launched a child into such a dangerous role. Was it selfish of them? Did they expect too much? The doubts always came crowding in when one of them got hurt. His job was to monitor and assess after all.

With a final run of his fingers through Alan’s hair and a “See ya, Al. Don’t make me come fetch you again” John turned and headed back to his habitual home.

xoxoxox

The ride back up to Thunderbird Five was a silent affair. Eos, now better attuned to his moods, correctly surmised that he needed to be left alone. Only once he was back inside the station did he briefly acknowledge her.

“Eos, turn on the gravity ring.”

It was an unusual request for him and one that betrayed his current depth of emotion. John was generally most comfortable in microgravity but in some circumstances gravity was necessary. 

He had to write and submit his report on the mission but first he had to write his _other_ report. The one that would never be uploaded to the servers. His own private record of events that dealt in more than just the facts of the matter. 

Reaching the sanctuary of his room he withdrew the notebook and pen from their concealed spot.

The book was a thing of beauty. Heavy, slightly creamy pages encased in soft calfskin; the leather a deep midnight blue. Each page unmarred by lines. A special commission to his exact specifications. For a man so immersed in the digital world a notebook seemed an odd luxury to choose. After all, paper was expensive; an environmentally unsound product that had all but been phased out. But the physicality of a book was sometimes necessary. Hard evidence. A disconnected node in an interconnected world.

The pen was perfectly weighted. A sleek, undecorated tube of brushed titanium that was simultaneously both functional and elegant.. The ink flowed in in a smooth stream, pouring out his soul in blue blood across the page. Each letter was perfectly formed, each word a thing of beauty. The precision with which John lived all aspects of his life was evident in this act of meditation. Line after line of fear and anger appeared across the paper filling the sheets in calligraphic hurt.

Not every mission warrants an entry, only those that he knows will haunt his dreams and leave him doubting the wisdom of their cause. The close calls. The near-misses. The times when he realises just how _far away_ he is from those he holds dear. This is his therapy. The book playing counsellor to his troubled soul with utmost confidentiality. 

Only when the turmoil is quelled, the ink as dry as the tear tracks on his cheeks, does he replace volume. A secret testimony to the sacrifices made for the world by a few individuals who shared their love and care around the whole planet and beyond.


	6. Jeff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gumnut added a surprise extra week with a Jeff challenge. The prompts used this time were 'home' and 'flower'.

The return to wakefulness was always a moment filled with panic, confusion and pain. 14.7 pounds per square inch of air pressure making itself known against his rib cage, turning those first few conscious breaths into a crushing battle for survival. The inescapable force of gravity pinning him to whichever surface he had fallen asleep on. He forced himself to count, modulating his breathing to the rhythm inside his head. Mind over matter.

Only once the primal battle for survival had been won could he concentrate on expelling the demons that plagued his dreams.

_I am Jeff Tracy_

_I am home on Tracy Island_

_I returned to Earth on the Zero-XL_

_I have five children_

_I am safe_

It was similar to the words he had recited every time he awoke on that god-forsaken rock in the Oort Cloud. The rhythm of the mantra grounding him; a perpetual reminder of who he was and what he had to live for. He still needed the words to quell the rising panic he felt every time he woke even if the phrasing had changed slightly.

Jeff knew if he didn’t get his heart rate under control quickly enough there would be a swift pounding of feet along the corridor. The vital signs monitor he was still forced to wear alerting everyone in the complex that his body and mind were reacting badly to the return to Earth. 

He couldn’t face being a patient to the ministrations of his second son again. The first few days back home Virgil had dogged his every footstep as if he were terrified that his father would disappear for another eight years if let out of his sight. There was no denying that Virgil was an accomplished medic, his very bones seemed to be forged of compassion, but Jeff couldn’t face the look of fear and pity that Virgil couldn’t quite disguise behind a professional exterior every time his father became a whimpering mess. No; better to calm the demons alone and be the father they deserved.

It was definitely becoming easier. The space sickness was easing. Gravity was only now an issue in that twilight zone between asleep and awake. Reality overriding nightmare more easily with each passing day as his conscious absorbed that fact that he was really home and this wasn’t some sick fantasy sent to taunt him.

He was fully-clothed on the bed although this was nothing new. His body was easily exhausted and he rarely made it into his pyjamas. Changing for bed was a habit he had grown out of after his extended exile in space. Sleeping at night was another habit he had lost. His circadian rhythms were still non-existent and the cycle of night and day was one his body couldn’t quite synchronise with yet. Sleep was dictated by his body rather than the hands of a clock or the passage of the sun.

He sat up tentatively, not wanting to trigger a drop in blood pressure and a visit to the infirmary for yet another medical examination. His orange wraparound glasses were placed neatly on the bedside table suggesting that someone had visited him while he slept and placed the frames out of harms way. Exhaustion generally enveloped him so quickly that he rarely made it as far as removing the detested item himself. 

The curtains were tightly drawn but a light had been left on dimly. It was a courtesy he was incredibly grateful for. Total darkness sent him into a panic; a terrifying reminder of systems failures and the shutting down of life support systems that signalled a swift countdown to death if he couldn’t bring things back online quickly enough. He made sure the frames were back in place before gently manipulating the dimmer switch and increasing the light levels in the room. Much as he would like to leave the glasses off his eyes were still too sensitive. Hopefully in a few more days they would be banished back to the infirmary supplies.

As his eyes adjusted to the increasing light he spied the tray on the low table. The covered plate of food, glass of water, cup of tablets and a solitary flower in a single stem vase showing beyond reasonable doubt that there had indeed been a visitor. At least now he had graduated back up to solid food even if the offerings were bland. His first attempts at eating on Earth had been rejected violently by his body and he was glad that stage of acclimatisation had passed. The rusk like substance on the place wasn’t appealing but it was highly calorific and nutrient dense. He chewed the rusk slowly then knocked back the tablets in a single shot.

Suitably fortified he opened the curtains. The view was breathtaking and he longed to be able to see it without the tint of his protective glasses. He had to keep telling himself to be patient. He had a whole lifetime ahead of him now thanks to his sons. 

_I am Jeff Tracy_

_I am home on Tracy Island_

_I returned to Earth on the Zero-XL_

_I have five amazing sons_

_Because of them I am safe_


End file.
